


Currently Unknown

by finnbuddy



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, M/M, Misunderstood Daryl, Not Beta Read, POV Daryl Dixon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 11:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5161691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finnbuddy/pseuds/finnbuddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has Rick all but against the wall as he previously was, with his hand around his neck. Instinct, he thinks. He has him against the wall not because he's genuinely angry, but because Daryl calculates that it was shock. The mindlessness of the redneck within him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Currently Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> I can't exactly say where this came from or if it's any good, but enjoy <3

No matter what people say, Daryl isn't just a violent redneck hick. He's anything but that. He tried to stay away from that life. He may look like one. He may talk like one. He may hunt like one, but he considers himself anything but one. Most consider him distasteful. Wasteful. Mindless. He's anything but that.

Violence isn't something he'd say he enjoys. It's just the way of life now. He's now having to dig into his redneck roots, per se. He just refuses to let himself become like Merle or his damn father - a bully and brute.

As he pushes past Rick, shoving his shoulder, he's grabbed. Pushed. Treated like crap. He's shoved up against the closest wall, panting and struggling. He quickly changes that, making himself seem like the aggressor. He has Rick all but against the wall as he previously was, with his hand around his neck. Instinct, he thinks. He has him against the wall not because he's genuinely angry, but because Daryl calculates that it was shock. The mindlessness of the redneck within him. 

The more he stares at Rick, just breathing, he feels his inner young man break free. He sees what exactly he thinks makes him so beautiful. 

When he's against the wall, leaning in, he can feel the man's pulse hammering. He can hone in with laser like focus on the way Rick's pupils dilate, the way the streaks in his iris' seem like light flickering on a deep set blue pool. 

Daryl can see the blood pulling away and rushing to and from Rick's face, not sure as to where it wants to go. Daryl somewhat blushes, but make his thoughts back away. Rick's cheeks painted by the red, the most delicate of hues. 

Daryl can see Rick's lips, dark and pink. Completely full. No panic in his eyes. No panic in his face. His lips. His cheeks. He can just hear the grinding of teeth, can almost hear the torrent of words gurgling, yet not breaching the silence. 

Daryl doesn't know what to think about the non-existent panic in Rick. The slight struggle of his body trying to get out of being boxed in, his quiet panting and eyes boring into his own. He can feel the breaths gently puffing against his face, like an explosion of peach and stale M&Ms. 

All that Daryl needs is right here. Nothing else seems important, as fascinating as this person in the grip of his hands, convinced that he, Daryl Dixon, of all people is someone to be wary of due to his background. His clothes. His voice. His outbursts.

Maybe Rick just needs to learn to read him better. 

He needs to learn to see the young man trapped inside this body, forced to grow up too quickly. 

He needs to learn to see the young man trapped in this body, forced to live by instinct, by outburst. 

He needs to learn to see the young man trapped in this body, forced to live in anger. No other felt emotion.

He needs to learn. To learn these things do not define him.

**Author's Note:**

> If I get any comments or kudos, then thank you :)


End file.
